


Just Look At Me Once

by heroWHO



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels on earth, Angst, F/M, M/M, Possible Character Death, Unrequited Love, because it's good to hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroWHO/pseuds/heroWHO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean would never consent, no matter how many times Michael asked.</p><p>Adam had said yes, and Michael had never even thought of asking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Look At Me Once

Angels needed bond-vessels.

That was the rule.

When angels were first born, they were given a temporary vessel capable of containing their entire being up until their bond-vessel was born. Once the bond-vessel was born, an angel’s original vessel would weaken, and he would slowly lose his powers before his grace would disappear, eventually followed by his now human body. That was, unless the angel was able to connect with his bond-vessel.

Bond-vessels served one purpose: to use their souls to permanently anchor the grace of an angel to its original vessel. In return for this sacrifice, they would be endowed with a fraction of the angel’s grace. This grace was also necessary for the bond-vessel’s soul to remain intact under the strain of the connection.

Adam knew the relationship between vessel and angel was a sacred thing. It was something long written by the stars, eons before the birth of his single, trivial person. Each angel had his own bloodline of compatible bond-vessels, and the stronger an angel, the more particular vessel requirements were.

Cherubs and low-ranking angels had entire families of possible bond-vessels to choose from. Seraphs had maybe a single family. For archangels, vessels were limited to a single person. In rare cases, an archangel would be able to secure a temporary vessel who could renew their original bodies, allowing them to hold on for a few more years. However, there had never been a case where an archangel had found a person capable of permanently anchoring their grace besides the vessel destined to do so.

That was why Adam was so determined to smother the painful, budding seed of want inside him that emerged at any mention of Michael.

Michael, the archangel... whose fated vessel just happened to be Adam’s half-brother Dean.

He had first revealed himself to the Winchesters when Dean turned 18, and in a single instant, 7 year old Adam Milligan had fallen in love.

He didn’t know how it had happened. It had just _happened_. He only knew that Michael was warm and strong and bright like the sun... and Adam was drawn to him like a moth. Maybe all archangels left that kind of mesmerizing impression on humans.

Except on Dean. For some reason, Adam’s half-brother wanted nothing to do with Michael.

“I’m not going to be some fancy archangel’s bitch,” Dean had replied when he had asked why.

 _He’ll agree eventually, bond-vessels always do,_ Adam had thought. _And I’ll forget about this little crush._

Except 8 years had passed, and neither had happened. Now going into high school, Adam just wanted a fresh start. He wanted to be a regular teenager, not the half-brother of some archangel’s destined bond-vessel. He wanted to join clubs, maybe find a girl he genuinely liked and just forget about Michael who would never see him as anything except Dean’s little brother.

Except every time his mind even slightly drifted towards the archangel, a sharp ache would dig inside him, right under the heart, and Adam knew he would never be able to forget about Michael.

 

* * *

 

“Get out of my room, you freak! Do you always hang around when I’m changing?”

Adam heard the muffled sounds of shouting through his wall, followed by the messy crash of someone being thrown out a window. He smothered a groan and got out of bed.

 _Tomorrow was going to be his first day of highschool dammit. Was it too much to ask to just let him get -_ Adam looked at his alarm clock _\- six hours of sleep?_

 _It must have been Michael visiting Dean again_ , Adam sighed. 

Ever since Dean had first rejected Michael’s initial proposal to become bond-mates and accept his role as the archangel’s bond-vessel, each interaction between the two had grown in tensions, eventually erupting into conflicts. 

Adam slid open his window and stuck his head out, knowing Michael would be out there.

Just like he suspected, a figure stood wearily on the roof, shoulders tense and weighed down by something beyond simple frustration.

“Hey... Michael.” Adam offered, voice heavy with sleepiness. “Another fight?”

The archangel’s head snapped up, and Adam caught sight of his tired, dark-green eyes.

“Why?” He heard Michael ask. “Why does he refuse me? We’re _destined_ to be together.”

“Yeah, well. Dean kind of has an authority problem... even if it’s destiny calling the shots,” Adam attempted to joke.

“Doesn’t he understand? I _need_ him, Adam,” Michael’s voice broke. “I won’t have much longer.”

Adam had never heard Michael sound so... desperate, and he swallowed nervously at the implications of Michael’s words as a lick of panic rose inside him. “

No, everything will be fine, Michael,” Adam said, the words rushing out. He didn’t know if he was trying to reassure the archangel or himself. “I’m sure Dean will come around eventually. Just try giving him some space, you know.”

Adam looked up to see the archangel biting his bottom lip in deliberation.

Now thinking about it, the light he could always see shining through Michael was dimmer than before. If Michael's original body was truly beginning to fall apart, the archangel's abilities and grace would soon follow. That was what happened, Adam knew, when an angel remained unbonded while his bond-vessel walked the Earth. Their grace would slowly leave them as their body began to crack, and the angel would  eventually become human.

That wasn’t good. 

Everyone knew with the loss of an angel's grace came the loss of their connection to Heaven. The two or three studies ever done on fallen angels had all found that the severing of this bond with the Host had devastating effects on a fallen angel’s soul and psych. Furthermore, the original body of an angel wasn't prepared to deal with the physical dangers of the real world after millenniums of protection by the angel’s grace. Their freshly-human immune systems simply couldn't take it. After falling from Heaven, angels rarely made it past ten years as a human. 

However, this wasn't what worried Adam. It was something much more serious that left Adam with fear swishing around nauseously in the pit of his stomach.

There were _angel hunters_ out there.

The whole world knew there were people out there with a hatred directed especially at celestial beings... for reasons Adam couldn’t comprehend. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was arrogance. Maybe it was just a need to prove the superiority of the human race. He didn’t know. However, rumor was these people banded together in hidden sects, trying to keep track of all the vessels and still unbonded angels out there.

Adam figured the reason the hate groups still hadn't been smited was that maybe "no smiting" was part of God's platform up there in Heaven. Or maybe it was that angels hardly considered humans a threat to themselves, or to their bond-vessels. After all, if a hate group did attempt to attack a vessel, the bonded angel would quickly arrive to take care of the matter.

However, this was an entirely different case for unbonded angels when they fell. Fallen angels were what these groups lived for, where their hate could finally be unleashed.

And Adam knew how deep their hate could run. 37 years ago, there had been a gruesome case in Chile where a hunting group had managed to finally get their hands on a fallen angel. The gory details had landed the incident on the news channels of every country. There was no doubt Latin Americans had quite the imagination, managing to outshine even the "finer" works of some very well-known druglords.

_Who knew what they would do if they got their hands on a fallen Michael, an archangel who once directly helped God rule Heaven and Earth?_

“Here,” Adam outstretched his hand, trying to shake away unnecessary thoughts. “Come inside.”

Michael looked at him and then his hand, hesitating for a noticeable pause before accepting the unnecessary help.

“I’ll go make some hot chocolate,” Adam said. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” Michael muttered. Adam grinned and lead the way to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“You’re starting high school tomorrow,” Michael said, trying to start a conversation between sips of hot chocolate.

“Yeah.” Adam mumbled.

“I’m sorry for Dean and I keeping you up then.” Michael apologized, eyes intently cast downward at his hot chocolate.

“It’s fine. Bond-vessel angel relationship stuff is pretty important after all, isn’t it?” Adam waved off. 

There was a long stretch of silence as Adam stirred his hot chocolate, trying to ask the question which had nagged at him ever since seeing Michael upstairs.

“So... exactly how long of a countdown do you have left?” He finally blurted out, eyes tightly shut.

Michael looked at him, and sighed. 

“Two years... I, Michael, an _archangel of the lord,_ have walked this Earth for millenniums, and in a mere, two years, I will become mortal.”

A sudden urgency rose in Adam as he realized how serious of a situation Michael was in.

“Don’t you have a Plan B or anything?” Adam questioned, a raw desparation in his voice. “Haven't you _tried_ looking for a temporary bond-vessel or someone else who might be compatibl-.”

The shatter of a cup startled Adam as glass shards went flying everywhere. He looked up to see a furious Michael seething at him.

“There can be no one but Dean,” Michael hissed. _“I will have no one but Dean.”_

And then the archangel disappeared, leaving barely a flutter of a sound despite all his fury.

Staring at the mess, Adam sat there, a painful ache in his throat as the hot chocolate spread on the kitchen table and eventually spilled onto the floor.

_Two years, huh._


End file.
